


Checkout is at Noon

by iwaizumemes (skytramp), squidmemesinc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Flirting, Gun Violence, M/M, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6949525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/iwaizumemes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What could it hurt?” Bokuto asked innocently.</p><p>Hajime privately thought that it could hurt plenty, if Suga wanted it to, but Suga was unbuttoning his jacket and letting it fall back against the chair and Bokuto squeezed his hand. Rationally, he knew he should say no and walk out of the suite with Bokuto in tow. However, he’d always felt a strong attraction to Suga, even knowing he was dangerous—perhaps just slightly because of it, if he was being perfectly honest. </p><p>“What could it hurt?” Hajime replied, more of a statement than a question, and unbuttoned his own jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkout is at Noon

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy hey, party people! We've come to present you with our almost exactly one year in the making BokuIwaSuga spy AU fuckfest extravaganza. Given that it's only 11and-some-change thousand words, it really shouldn't have taken us a year, but it did.
> 
> Thanks a ton to Lucky for beta-ing! 
> 
> We hope you enjoy it!!!

" _Got it_ ," Futakuchi said through the earpiece after a long beat.

Tooru allowed himself to lean back and relax a little. "You need me for anything else?" he asked, tapping his nails on his knee as he spun gently back and forth in his expensive leather desk chair. This really was a fancy hotel, and he was in one of the larger suites. Everything up here was extravagant. There was a full kitchen, and a bathroom the size of a standard studio apartment in Japan. He wouldn't have minded living in a place like this, but he was pretty sure that even as the top ranked spy in his agency, he couldn't afford a place like this. However, he thought if he every got a ritzy apartment, he would have very different decor. The style in this suite gave off the impression of trying too hard to look expensive. Tooru preferred more modern, sleek lines, rather than furniture dancing with extravagant patterns.

Futakuchi's voice crackled back, " _Nope, go ahead and get out of there._ "

Tooru heaved himself out of the chair. "Roger," he said cheerily. He pulled the earpiece out, clicked it off, and pocketed it before crossing through the gigantic suite to the door. 

He froze in the middle of the gaudy rug about four meters from the doorway when he sensed a presence. This person, unlike the others in the room, was conscious—and hostile. Tooru snapped his head up in less than a second, ready to disable whoever it was.

"Ya-ho, Tooru-chan!" Sugawara Koushi said brightly, waggling his fingers in a cheery wave.

Tooru dropped his hands, but didn’t lower his guard. "What a surprise, Suga-chan." He greeted the other spy with a pleasant but deadly smile that didn't betray at all the way his heart had completely stopped beating. He wasn’t sure yet what this meant, but he knew it was bad. He scanned Suga, who appeared to be unarmed, but of course, that meant absolutely nothing.

Suga stalked over to him slowly, tilting his head. "'Suga-chan,' Tooru, really? We used to be on a first name basis."

Tooru didn't back up even when Suga was right in front of him, past the boundaries that any acquaintance would consider invading, but then, Suga wasn't an acquaintance. "Yes, we used to be," he replied, keeping his voice just as sugary. "Now, I wonder what business you could have in this particular room of this particular hotel on this particular day?"

Suga rolled his head back and let loose an airy laugh. "Oh, yes, I wonder? What bizarre twist of fate could bring Tooru and Koushi to the hotel room of a certain Russian weapons specialist, whilst he and his colleagues laugh and drink a dozen floors below, and would be entirely unaware of anyone breaking in to steal his missile blueprints, provided the correct people were incapacitated at the correct times?" He kept his head still as he spoke, but slid his eyes subtly across the floor of the suite, where Tooru had left a few unconscious bodies as his own attempt at decorating.

Tooru narrowed his eyes down at Suga, enjoying the fact that he still had the advantage of height and bulk over him. He leaned in a little closer so Suga really had to crane his neck to keep eye contact. "Admiring my handiwork, Suga-chan? Or just jealous that you couldn't beat me to it?"

Suga wrapped a hand around Tooru's tie idly, tugging the fabric free of his tailored jacket and appearing to examine the pattern before looking back up at his face. "My _dear_ Tooru, this doesn't have to be a competition. We could share our things, like we used to. Before you and Iwaizumi left me." There was an audible note of bitterness in his voice at the last.

"My dear Suga-chan,” Tooru shot back condescendingly, “you always took that too personally."

Suga stuck out his bottom lip slightly, putting on a pouty face. "It was personal and you know it. Just because I was a little bad sometimes..." He twirled Tooru's tie around his hand, not so subtly trying to tighten it around his neck, but Tooru kept his head straight. Suga looked up at him, smiling gently again, looking the picture of innocence. "Make it up to me?" He pulled down on the tie, until Tooru was forced to either choke or relent, so he eased down. Their lips were only centimeters apart. Tension of all kinds hung between them, thick and snapping with static.

 _Don't_ , Tooru's rationality told him. He knew what Suga was doing. He knew the feelings between them were hard and full of resentment, had probably been stewing and setting deeper into him over the past few years. There had been contact since they left, but not in person, and this was far more dangerous.

They were both dangerous, but they'd always been on equal footing; it was just that Suga was always willing to go farther.

And yet, he couldn’t remember what Suga's lips tasted like. He really wanted to.

While Tooru was debating with himself, Suga wrapped his other hand around the back of his neck and decided for him. 

They collided, breaking through the wall that had grown between them in a harsh press of lips, which devolved quickly into teeth nipping at flesh, pulling, demanding entrance, giving way with ease. They had to make up for the time they'd been apart in this one moment, because they both knew nothing that happened there would leave that room. This was the closure they never got.

Tooru forced his tongue deep into Suga's mouth, filling his senses with the taste of him. He'd had a drink—something like vodka and cranberries, that was more bitter than sweet, covered up with the spice of strong cinnamon mints. He cupped the side of Suga's face, thumbing over his ear, and pulled his hips against his own. The other spy sighed happily and licked against the roof of Tooru's mouth before pulling his lip through his teeth.

Suga rolled his hips insistently against Tooru's, smirking against his mouth. His hands left his tie and neck and pushed into his jacket, roaming across his crisp, white dress shirt, circling around the front, one of them pressed against his stomach, hovering above a place that gave Tooru a twinge a little lower.

The bullet shot through the silencer with a soft, chirpy _pew_ and Tooru fell heavily to the floor, clutching his stomach. 

"Suga, you _bastard!_ " Tooru choked out, spitting blood all over his white jacket and cringing in pain.

Suga had the tip of Tooru's gun cocked lazily near the side of his head with his other hand on his hip. "Aww, don't you look cute bleeding all over your little suit!" he cooed. "Now stay right there like a good boy, Tooru, or I'll shoot you again." He stepped over Tooru, humming, and went to the computer he'd just left, typing quickly.

Tooru laid still and applied as much pressure as he could to the wound, he knew it wouldn't do him as much good as he needed it to. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and he was leaking like a sieve all over this tacky rug. That had been his gun. _His gun_ , that Suga just managed to take from him and shoot him with!

Tooru almost felt like he deserved to die here for letting Suga get the best of him like that, but he liked himself a little too much to hold true to that train of thought.

Suga snapped shut the laptop lid and crossed back across the suite. Tooru had lost enough blood by then that if someone didn’t find him within the next ten minutes, he would be dead. And they both knew that.

Suga didn't look at him as he reached the door, just waved the gun again and called back. "Ta-ta, Tooru-chan!"

Tooru felt dizzy. His hands were going slack where they pressed against his side, and his shallow, desperate breaths echoed in his ears.

So much for closure.

__________

“ _Nope, go ahead and get out of there._ ” Futakuchi’s voice came through Koutarou’s earpiece and he knocked back the last of his scotch, setting the glass gingerly on the napkin on the bar. Well, that was that. Give Oikawa another ten minutes, just to be really generous, and he would be out of there. Meanwhile, Yaromir Minkovski was blissfully unaware that his missile blueprints had been stolen. He’d know soon, of course; no doubt Oikawa had made short work of the guards and hadn’t bothered to clean them up.

Someone else walked up to the space at the bar behind Koutarou’s back. “Two scotches, please. Top shelf.”

Koutarou continued to watch the Russian scientist. He sure did seem to be enjoying himself. Koutarou wasn’t quite sure who all these other guys were (no doubt various politicians and military leaders), but between the dozen or so of them they’d gone through three bottles of Stolichnaya in forty-five minutes. Koutarou was salivating just at the thought of getting a shot of it. He’d even settle for half a shot. At least to smell it...

So absorbed was Koutarou in the thought of free alcohol that he didn’t notice the free alcohol being offered to him until the man holding it cleared his throat and jiggled the glass a little in front of him. “I’m starting to feel a little silly here.” The voice was just as beautiful as the man it belonged to. Koutarou’s eyes were drawn first to his eyes, a soft brown that spoke of kindness and mystery, and then to the beauty mark on his cheek bone. His lavender tie complimented his hair nicely while contrasting his navy suit. Koutarou looked down again at his hand, noting the small purple shrimp cufflinks (perhaps a little cuter than appropriate for such a white tie event) and finally deigning to take the scotch.

“Wow, thank you! Er—”

“Sugawara Koushi. Suga is perfectly fine, though,” he said with a wink, which made Koutarou smile.

“Suga, then. Thank you! I’m Bokuto. Koutarou.”

“Mmm, lovely. We’re both Kou-chan then, to some.”

Koutarou grinned and took a sip of the scotch. “What kanji do you use?”

“Filial piety,” Suga said with a laugh.

“Mine is light!” Koutarou paused and watched Suga sip at his own scotch, barely pursing his lips over the rim of the glass. “Hey wait, you’re Japanese!”

He laughed again and Koutarou felt a blush rising to his face that couldn’t be solely attributed to the alcohol. “Yes, I am. How good of you to notice. Our entire conversation has, in fact, been in Japanese.”

“Wait, why are you here? What do you do?”

He laughed for a third time and Koutarou began to wonder if he was just being particularly funny. “Can you keep a secret, Bokuto-san?”

“Sure can,” Koutarou said with a wink, leaning on the bar. At a lower height, he was face to face with Suga, aside from the couple dozen centimeters between them.

Suga raised a hand to the side of his mouth and held it up like a shield from the rest of the room. “I’m a spy. I’m here on a mission.” Now he winked.

“You can’t just go around telling people you’re a spy, Suga.” Koutarou felt it was sound advice. Hajime had given it to him on more than one occasion, sometimes a little forcefully, or loudly, or both.

“You said you could keep a secret,” Suga complained, pouting slightly in a way that charmed Koutarou more than he felt was appropriate to admit.

“I can, of course!”

Suga sipped his drink pensively, looking as if he had a secret. “Is that because you’re also a spy?”

Koutarou turned so his back was pressing against the bar and crossed his arms over his chest, but smiled in a way he thought did not give him away at all. “I am not at liberty to tell you that.”

“What if I told you I already knew?”

Koutarou considered this carefully. This seemed to be what Hajime would normally refer to as a red flag, but Koutarou was opting in favor of ignoring that because of a few things. 1) There were only a handful of spy agencies in Japan, and Koutarou knew about all of them; 2) If Suga had wanted to attack him, he would have done it by now (belatedly, Koutarou considered that he should have been a little more careful accepting a drink from a stranger, but he hadn’t passed out yet, so he figured it was okay); 3) Suga was really pretty, and seemed to be flirting with him. He set his drink down on the bar, now half as full as it had been when he had received it. “Then I’d say… I suppose there’s no point in being coy about it.”

__________

If the hotel’s security cameras hadn’t been so hi-res, Hajime probably wouldn’t have believed what he was seeing: Sugawara Koushi, in the living, breathing, flirting flesh with his arm wrapped around Bokuto’s shoulder. It took him less than five minutes, jumping out of the car, not caring when his laptop fell to the floorboard, and half climbing in the trunk to get out his suit. It was wrinkled, though not as bad as it could have been, and he knew his hair was sticking up in all directions, but it didn’t matter. Bokuto didn’t know who he was dealing with, and he couldn’t explain it over comms in a subtle enough way to get him out of there safely. No, the only way to deal with Suga is head-on, and that was exactly what Hajime was planning to do. 

With his suit relatively straight and the outline of the gun on his hip hidden by the jacket, he slammed his car door and crossed the busy street in front of the hotel. He could see three security guards, all armed, patrolling the exterior, and he took note of their locations just in case they were needed. 

“Hang on, Bokuto, I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything too weird for two minutes," Hajime said through the almost invisible comm device embedded in his ear. He knew Bokuto couldn’t respond, but he just hoped he was listening. 

The automatic doors opened and with that came the sounds from the banquet. The hotel lobby was brimming with people, all spilling from the wide double doors of the banquet hall. It was lavish; a few brocaded couches, with fabric that looked too expensive to touch; large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Despite the fact that the suit that wasn’t his, but rather borrowed from the agency’s stock closet of fancy high-end suits, he felt out of place. If he hadn’t been on a mission with the chance of Bokuto’s life being in imminent danger, he would have left immediately and went right back to the safe smell of tobacco and leather in his car. 

He crossed the lobby looking as intimidating as he dared without making eye contact with anyone. He flashed an ornate invitation—a forgery—to the security at the door and was allowed to enter without even being stopped. His eyes zeroed in on Bokuto. He was leaning against the bar, laughing loudly with a drink in one hand and his other elbow on the counter. Suga was next to him. He hadn’t changed really in the last five years, and even from ten meters away his smile was just as deadly. 

The last five years had changed a lot of things in Hajime’s life. The day he and Oikawa had left BKN was a low point. A big part of him had thought they’d be out on their asses, that no other agency would want a couple of defectors too squeamish to get the job done. He’d thought they were done, resigned to desk jobs or customer service, and he never would have had the courage to leave if it hadn’t been for Oikawa’s persistence. They’d never been partners—it wouldn’t ever work—but they’d been friends since childhood, and Hajime was better with Oikawa somewhere nearby. 

Suga had been a piece of work back then, and surely he was the same now. He looked gentle, always soft spoken, occasionally smiling, supportive. Nothing like a spy, except when he was on a mission. Then it was as if he flipped a switch. Any mercy he’d had, any doubt or hesitation was gone, replaced with a much harder smile and devoid of mercy. He would kill anyone in his way, regardless of if it was necessary, and the agency followed his lead. Hanamaki had always laughed, encouraging Suga to take more and more risks, if only for the thrills, until the point where it was just too much for Oikawa. 

Oikawa had come to Hajime looking stern and collected, but he could see how his hands shook; he was terrified. Hajime never did find out what it was that Suga did, what line he crossed that Oikawa couldn’t look past, since Oikawa never gave him a straight answer, but he just packed up. They left resignation letters with their superior officer, loaded his car, and they left.

Finding Dodomeki-supai had felt like a second chance, a new life where things could be better. They had been. Bokuto was a pain in his ass, somehow both terrible and great at his job, and Hajime had fallen hard for him. First into bed, then the feelings came later. They’d been partners for five years, and lovers for more than three. There was no way this smirking shadow from his past was going to end that now. 

Bokuto saw him before Suga did and waved him over. Suga turned his head with deadly precision, finding his target in a way that made Hajime almost certain Suga knew what to expect. There was no shock in his face when he smiled, and Hajime frowned back as he crossed the room. The people around him were paying no attention, they danced and talked and laughed, sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres from silver trays. 

“Didn’t expect to see _you_ , Iwaizumi.” Suga greeted, holding out his hand for Hajime to shake. 

He ignored it. “Suga. What the hell are you doing here?” Bokuto, to his credit, looked appropriately confused, sipping his drink in silence and looking back and forth between them. 

Suga laughed. “I’m here for the party, of course, what else?” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Hey, Hajime—” Bokuto started and Hajime held up his hand to stop him. He didn’t touch his arm like he was tempted to, Suga would notice the connection in an instant, if he hadn’t already. 

“That’s not very nice, Iwa-chan,” Suga said, and Hajime cringed. 

“Don’t call me that,” he spat. 

“Oh, only Oikawa gets to call you that? I guess you always were sort of his pet. Him and I shared so much though,” he paused, laughing and sipping his scotch, Hajime didn’t let his gaze linger on his lips where he licked them clean, “I thought we might share you, too.” 

“Stop,” Hajime replied. He grabbed Bokuto’s arm this time, just above the elbow and tried to pull him away. 

“What’s going on here?” Bokuto countered, not moving despite Hajime’s protest. 

“Suga here is...an old friend," he tried not to stress the final words, but they stuck in his mouth. There may have been a time when he would have said they were friends, but that was a long time ago, and too much had happened since then. “Mission’s complete, we’re going to leave before anything bad happens.” 

“You can’t leave yet! The party is only just starting,” Suga said. He finished his glass and set it on the counter. “And besides, Bokuto-san and I were just getting to know each other.” The way his eyes trailed over Bokuto’s body was obscene, lingering on his chest, his throat. 

Hajime still hadn’t managed to move Bokuto even a centimeter away and Suga took a half step closer to rest his hand on Bokuto’s bicep. With his other hand he fished a hotel key card from his pocket. 

“We could go upstairs… All three of us, get to know each other better. Or get reacquainted, as it may be?” Suga’s eyes flicked between Bokuto and Hajime and he felt Bokuto’s hesitation immediately. 

“No,” Hajime said. Bokuto turned to him with wide eyes. He was pleading without words and Hajime shook his head. “No way,” he said towards Bokuto this time. “Don’t be a dumbass.” 

“Okay, I’m still not sure what the hell is going on but we could at least hear him out, right?” Bokuto’s words sounded logical, like he’d been thinking about how to phrase them, and his tone was even. 

Hajime could think of a hundred reasons why ‘hearing him out’ was a bad plan, but he knew he would feel guilty if he didn’t make a small allowance for Bokuto. 

He nodded his head jerkily. “Whatever,” he said, “Lead the way.” 

The elevator was quick to pick them up and whisk them up to a suite near the top floor. It was well appointed, large, and, Hajime was sure, fabulously expensive. He was tempted to make a joke, or to ask how BYKN could afford to put up its agents in rooms this nice, but he held back. 

Suga led them through the room like he was giving a tour before settling into a plush chair and crossing his legs. Hajime remained standing, far enough away that he couldn’t be taken by a surprise attack, but close enough that he was pretty certain he could restrain Suga if he needed to. He could still feel his gun strapped comfortingly to his hip. Bokuto followed his lead and hovered at his shoulder. 

“Why are you here?” Hajime asked. 

“I’m on a job, of course, but you knew that. Why are you here?” Suga uncrossed and recrossed his legs before resting his chin on his hand. He leaned his head low over the armrest and smiled. 

Hajime didn’t answer him, and he was glad Bokuto didn’t either. “What kind of job?” 

“Just this and that. You know, Iwa-chan, I’ve always sort of wanted to suck your dick." He said it in such a casual way that it took Hajime a few seconds before he tensed up in response. Suga was shameless, and still not answering his questions. 

“What kind of job?” he repeated, and glanced at Bokuto beside him. His face was blank—the face he normally used during missions—and Hajime was glad to see him taking this seriously. “What does BYKN want at this hotel? In this country? There’s no way this is just a coincidence.” 

Suga laughed and leaned forward slightly in his seat. “The most important people in eastern Europe are here tonight, Iwa-chan, of course it’s not a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean we’re here for the same reason. Besides, my work’s done, and I doubt _you_ would be here if yours wasn’t done, too," he sat back again and lifted his hips to fold one of his legs underneath him. Hajime concentrated on keeping his eyes on Suga’s face, and not the way his slacks stretched over his legs.

“We’re not here to talk about our mission. We’re here to talk about yours.” 

“So you admit there’s a mission?” Suga countered.

“Of course there’s a mission. You think I’d drag my ass out to Russia for fun?” Hajime snapped back and crossed his arms. 

“Well, we could certainly have some fun. That’s what I intended after all.” 

Bokuto let out a laugh and Hajime turned to him, eyes wide in surprise. Bokuto gave him a shrug. 

“What? That was funny. You sort of walked into that," he replied, still smiling as Hajime let out an exasperated sigh. 

Suga laughed at that and turned his attention to Bokuto. “I’m glad someone appreciates my humor. Why are you so uptight, Iwa-chan?” 

Hajime opened his mouth to respond but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth again. 

“Oh? Cat got your tongue? I can think of better uses for it.” Suga leaned back that time, sinking into the plush fabric of the chair. He crossed his legs in front of him. They were talking in circles now, but Hajime didn’t intend to lower his guard until he was satisfied with Suga’s answers.

“Why are you here?” Hajime asked again, slightly firmer. 

“Ooh, I always liked when you got serious," he smiled and Hajime looked away, breaking the eye contact he’d been trying to hold in favor of not letting Suga see his reaction. “Have you heard of Ilya Krayevsky?” 

Bokuto lifted his head. “The rich one?” 

“Yes.” Suga continued, “Did you know he owns a company that holds majority shares in three quarters of the weapons production corporations in Europe?” 

Hajime shook his head, and then sat down on the couch across from Suga. At least it felt like they were getting somewhere. “What does this have to do with you?” 

“It’s been said, in _private circles_ , that Ilya likes his women strong… and with a dick. I came here to have a discussion with him and see what information I could gather.”

“You came here to fuck him into spilling secrets?” Hajime said it with a smile. It sounded like old times, when Suga had always been the best at that particular maneuver.

“So vulgar, Iwa-chan. Besides, he was perfectly happy to share what I needed after five minutes in the bathroom with only my hands.” 

“Whoa.” Bokuto said, sounding both awed and impressed, looking as if he might be interested in a demonstration. 

Hajime’s eyes drifted to Suga’s hands, pale with long fingers where they rested on the tops of his thighs. It should have been gross, thinking about him with some random Russian billionaire, but he couldn’t stop the shiver that shook him. Bokuto moved until he was behind the couch and rested his hands on Hajime’s shoulders. 

“So that’s what you came here for, then? Mission accomplished?” 

Suga nodded and his smile widened. His eyes flicked from Hajime’s face up to Bokuto. “I’d heard you’d taken a lover, Iwa-chan, but I didn’t realize it was your partner. So naughty. Didn’t Tooru teach you the lesson he learned from me? Don’t fall in love with your partners.” 

Hajime stiffened. “I don’t think love is the right word for what you two had.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but you love Bokuto-san, don’t you? My advice still stands, then.” 

Hajime hesitated, but eventually nodded and leaned back into the support of Bokuto’s hands. It felt like they’d gotten all they would get from Suga, he’d been surprisingly forthright in his responses, despite the initial run around. 

“Thank you for your information. I think it’s time we get going.” Hajime said at last, shrugging Bokuto’s hands from his shoulders and rising to his feet. 

Suga watched him, shamelessly staring as Hajime straightened his jacket and smoothed down the tops of his pants. 

“We still have all night," he said, and licked his lips in a way that could be described as nothing less than provocative. 

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Hajime replied, his voice tight and strained.

Bokuto cleared his throat then, stepping around until he was standing next to Hajime and could wind their hands together. “He’s kind of right, you know. I’m sure Oikawa’s out having some fun, and Futa—” he hesitated, realizing that saying the name of another agent was probably a bad plan, “I mean, he’s probably knee deep in some computer game. What could it hurt?” 

Hajime privately thought that it could hurt plenty, if Suga wanted it to, but Suga was unbuttoning his jacket and letting it fall back against the chair and Bokuto squeezed his hand. Rationally, he knew he should say no and walk out of the suite with Bokuto in tow. However, he’d always felt a strong attraction to Suga, even knowing he was dangerous—perhaps just slightly because of it, if he was being perfectly honest. He still looked sharp as ever, and all the flirting he had put so much effort into was getting to him. Hajime thought of Oikawa briefly. He’d never been very possessive, so that wasn’t the cause of his concern, but he wondered… No, Suga wouldn’t have been able to get up to the suite Oikawa was in and get back down to the bar so fast… Hajime had seen the whole thing. And Suga’s story sounded reasonable enough as well.

“What could it hurt?” Hajime replied, more of a statement than a question, and unbuttoned his own jacket. 

__________

The bed was large enough to fit them all comfortably, even with Hajime on hands and knees. Bokuto dropped his pants, shoving the slacks past his ass where they had been so appealingly stretched, and hopped onto the bed. He settled on top of the pillows before yanking them out from underneath himself. 

“You look so good like this, Iwaizumi.” Suga’s voice came from behind him, and he climbed up onto the bed to pull Hajime’s pants off. The air in the suite was comfortably warm but Hajime shivered from the sudden nakedness all the same, and again when Suga’s fingernails slid up his back and under his shirt. 

Hajime pushed himself up on one hand and undid the buttons of his shirt with the other. Bokuto pulled his own shirt over his head, heedless of the fastenings or the small snap of threads, and tossed it on the floor. Hajime wasn’t sure what Suga was doing behind him, but he seemed to be doing it one handed, because one hand was constantly moving, raking nails over his skin of his shoulder under his shirt, sliding calloused fingertips at the base of his spine. He finished unbuttoning and pulled the shirt off, letting it fall down the arm that held him up on the mattress, still pooled around his wrist. 

Suga pushed at his shoulder until he was back on his hands and knees, and lifted his hips until his ass was in the air. 

“Whoa,” Bokuto said, eyes widening, as he palmed his half-hard cock. 

Suga laughed behind him and Hajime looked over his shoulder to see that he was, indeed, also naked, and a tube of lubricant disappeared as soon as he saw it before Suga pressed a slick finger into him. He turned back to Bokuto to find him stroking himself slowly. The muscles in his arm looked tense, as if he was holding himself back from going faster. Hajime let his head fall down, focusing on the burning stretch of Suga moving his fingers inside him. 

“Oh, Iwa-chan, you’re doing so well,” Suga purred, Hajime tensed at the nickname but loosened up again as Suga cocked his wrist and spread his fingers. He leaned down, hovering over Hajime’s back until he could feel his breath against his shoulder blades. “I always wanted to take you like this," he told him. 

Hajime shivered, unsure if it was from the comment or the sensation. He supported himself with one hand dug deep into the mattress and used the other to reach for Bokuto’s thigh. He couldn’t physically pull him closer, but Bokuto got the hint and scooted over until Hajime could lean up just enough to kiss him hard on the mouth. 

Suga curled his fingers and pushed and Hajime moaned into Bokuto’s mouth. Suga had always been spiteful like that, jealous if you didn’t give him the attention he wanted. Hajime pulled back and took a deep breath before pushing back against Suga’s fingers harder. Bokuto’s hand was still on his own dick, distracted by the kissing, but moving slowly. 

“You’re acting so desperate.” Suga said from behind him and Hajime could hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you want me that badly?” 

Haime had absolutely no plans of dignifying that question with an answer. Bokuto wasn’t as unfazed and his hand tightened around his cock. Hajime heard him suck in a breath. 

“Shit,” Bokuto said under his breath, sounding awestruck. Hajime looked up at him and raised an eyebrow the best that he could. “What?” Bokuto asked. 

“N-nothing," he tried to sound casual but Suga pulled his fingers out as he spoke, dragging them hard across the tight rim of his ass. 

“Come on, Hajime, I want to see him fuck you.” It was amazing how Bokuto could say things like that and still sound wide eyed and innocent, even more amazing that he could do it with his hand stroking his cock. 

Suga seemed to take Bokuto’s encouragement to heart and when he pressed back inside it was his dick and not his fingers. Hajime gasped. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, hardly more than the three fingers Suga had been scissoring inside him, but the angle was different, and Suga held his hips with both hands while he thrust in and out. 

It was almost too much for Hajime. With Bokuto they often switched, or just sucked each other off, but no matter what he was sensitive. Suga didn't even have to find his prostate, not that he wasn't doing it anyway, but Hajime was already biting back whines that threatened to pull from his chest. His eyes focused on Bokuto's hand as he stroked himself faster, almost matching the pace that Suga set. Hajime was having trouble keeping his balance as the pressure of Suga pushing him from behind threatened to knock him into Bokuto's lap.

He sunk down onto his elbows, keeping his hips high to stabilize his position and pushed away Bokuto's hand until he could lick up the side of his cock. Bokuto sucked in a deep breath and Iwaizumi tried to close his lips over the head. It was difficult, and he was uncoordinated, struggling to hold back moans while taking deep breaths. He drooled over Bokuto's dick, and despite the lacking skill Bokuto's hands were running through his cropped hair, holding him close.

Hajime wanted to touch himself, to get some friction on his own neglected cock but with his concentration divided between Bokuto in front of him and Suga behind him he couldn't focus. Part of him was desperate for Suga to touch him but he bit back the words before they left his mouth, he couldn't give Suga the satisfaction of begging him, especially considering how much he knew Suga wanted it.

He moaned around Bokuto's cock again, this time taking more into his mouth as Suga thrust in hard, pushing him forward until he almost gagged. Suga thrusted in hard again, and Iwaizumi widened his knees to get the balance he needed. He pulled off Bokuto’s cock and stroked it instead, jerking him in time with the way Suga pushed into him, wishing so much that it was his own cock he was touching. Bokuto groaned loudly, leaning back against the headboard and widening his legs even further on the bed around Iwaizumi’s body. 

“Don’t come yet.” Suga said. He sounded unaffected, teasing in the way that he had sounded all night so far, but Hajime was almost offended by the nonchalance when he was struggling to keep himself quiet. “You’re going to fuck me next.” 

Hajime rested his forehead and cheek against the inside of Bokuto’s thigh, trying to catch his breath and still keep his hand moving around Bokuto. “Uh—” Bokuto began, and Hajime looked up just in time to see him swallow heavily. “Me or Hajime? Because, uh—I’m getting—” 

Suga pulled out, keeping his hands braced on either side of Hajime’s hips. He could feel himself clenching around open air and shivers racked his muscles. “Both of you, probably,” Suga said and he laughed, plopping back against the sheets in what little free space remained.

__________

They were sprawled on the mattress, almost too exhausted to move. Koutarou was impatient to continue, having not gotten off, and he was surprised at how content Iwaizumi looked laying back with his eyes closed even though his cock was still partially hard. Suga looked content as well, or at least more comfortably mischievous than Koutarou had seen him yet, when he rolled over and up onto his knees. 

“Think you can find a way to entertain yourself, Bokuto-san?” Suga asked with everything but the wink as he crawled between Iwaizumi’s legs. Iwaizumi groaned, and Koutarou thought it sounded embarrassed, when Suga touched his thighs.

Koutarou allowed himself a minute to watch as Suga hovered over Iwaizumi’s cock. From his position, Koutarou could barely see his face, but from what he could see, Iwaizumi looked impatient, given that he had been denied release a few minutes ago. Koutarou didn’t blame him for wanting Suga’s pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. “I have a couple ideas,” he said, remembering Suga’s question, with a lopsided smile. Koutarou tossed a pillow from the side of the bed to Iwaizumi, who caught it and propped it up under himself, letting him scoot closer to the headboard, and moved slyly around Suga.

“I guess I’ll be surprised, then,” Suga mused, locking eyes with Iwaizumi with his lips parted over his cock. Koutarou watched as Iwaizumi roughly fisted his hand into Suga’s hair, scraping his fingernails over his scalp, and guided his head down. Suga let him push him down and, from the looks of it, took in most of Iwaizumi’s still hardening length—maybe even more than Koutarou was capable of. He wasn’t sure if he was more jealous of Iwaizumi for being on the receiving end of that, or of Suga’s ability to do it.

But either way, Koutarou had his own areas at which he excelled. He moved fully behind Suga, marveling for the umpteenth time about the vastness of the bed, and ran his fingers down Suga’s sides. He felt Suga’s muscles twitch as his touch tickled along his ribs, and he made a small noise of encouragement around Iwaizumi’s cock. Iwaizumi glanced up at Koutarou, who winked. They both grinned.

Koutarou moved his hands to Suga’s hips, then to his ass, bringing his thumb to rub over Suga’s tight hole. It spasmed under his touch, making him broaden his smirk again. Iwaizumi was still watching him, and presumably Suga was watching Iwaizumi, wondering when something more exciting was going to happen. Not wanting to keep them both waiting, he lowered himself down and flicked his tongue over Suga’s entrance. He pushed back on him almost immediately, and still grinning, Koutarou gripped his cheeks and pulled them apart so he could flatten his tongue over more skin. Suga moaned this time, making Iwaizumi suck in a breath and move the bed slightly with his shifting.

Koutarou smiled as much as he could with his tongue out, and ran it in lazy circles around the puckered flesh. He raised his eyebrows at Iwaizumi, winking for real at him, and pressed his tongue slowly in as far as it would go.

“Jesus fuck—” Iwaizumi swore, letting his eyes flutter closed briefly, appearing to grip Suga’s hair pretty hard. Koutarou thrusted his tongue gently in and out. “Keep doing that,” Iwaizumi commanded, voice raspy. Koutarou wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or Suga or both, but he had no intention of stopping either way.

He drew his tongue out and caught some of the skin between his teeth, feeling how Suga twitched. Another unrestrained moan rose from his throat. Koutarou kneaded his ass and thrust his tongue in again, pressing his mouth flat against Suga’s skin and licked over him, leaving as much saliva behind as he could. Suga wiggled back against him, moaning more frequently with his insistent tonguing, and Koutarou wished, not for the first time, that he could see his face. It would be nice to watch him suck Iwaizumi off regardless, but with the added component of having Koutarou’s tongue deep in his hole, working him open gently, his expression was sure to be good. He wasn’t sure if Suga was as bad as Iwaizumi thought he was. He sure was good at sex, anyway.

After a bit more, Koutarou pulled his tongue out and straightened up. “Hajime, you’re awful quiet,” he said, keeping one hand on Suga’s ass and reaching for the lube with the other. “Is he good or not?” He popped open the cap again, eyeing the remnants of the bottle and wondering if they were going to need more.

“He’s good. He should be, considering all the practice he gets.” Iwaizumi tilted his head, looking down at Suga. “You’re lucky your mouth can’t get as loose as your ass.”

Koutarou chuckled and pressed a dripping finger into Suga, feeling him squeeze around it. “He seems pretty tight to me. I bet we could loosen him up, though, if we took him at the same time.” He twisted his hand around, pulling the pad of his fingertip against the ring of taut muscle. He chuckled when he heard Suga groan again.

Iwaizumi tugged on Suga’s hair until he released his cock with a wet pop, wiping off his mouth. “You want us both to fuck you?” Iwaizumi asked politely.

Suga laughed, wiggling his hips, and Koutarou shivered at the sound. There was something a little off about it, something deeper beneath the surface that he might not have noticed before. “Sounds like a dream, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi pushed him back down. “I already told you not to call me that.” The humming from Suga sounded like more laughter, lasting until he was pushed down so far that he couldn’t without choking. “You’re such a slut, I can’t believe you can do that. You haven’t even choked once.” He rolled his hips up slowly, no doubt bumping his sizeable cock against the back of Suga’s throat. “Even with that.”

Koutarou let out a bark of laughter, now with two fingers shoved deep into Suga’s hole, spreading him open harder and faster than he had with his tongue. Suga whined again, rocking back and forth between them, making Iwaizumi grunt and buck up into his mouth. “I’m so jealous, Hajime. You look like you’re having fun.”

Iwaizumi ignored him. He pulled Suga’s head up by the hair and wrapped his hand around his cock to stroke it fast as he came on Suga’s face. The view of Iwaizumi orgasming was always good, but again Koutarou wished he could see Suga’s face. He would have bet his mouth was open, cum coating his lips and tongue, his cheeks. He swallowed, showy and loud enough that Koutarou could hear it.

Koutarou expected him to want a little break, and drew his fingers out to let him recover. Almost immediately Suga turned around. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” he sucked the last bit of cum off his lips. Iwaizumi’s spent expression shifted to one of disbelief for a second, and Koutarou could almost hear him asking, ‘What are you, some kind of incubus?’ But he ignored Iwaizumi in favor of his own cock, hard and ignored for much too long.

“I thought you’d want a minute—” Koutarou started.

Suga turned back to Iwaizumi. “Tell him, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi waved a hand limply, still exhausted. “Just fuck him, Koutarou.”

Koutarou didn’t need to be told again. He eagerly lined up with Suga and pushed in. He may have gone too fast, considering his earlier hesitation, but Suga didn’t complain. He slid forward and rested an arm on Iwaizumi’s stomach, his forehead on his chest, the other arm pushed into the bed next to him. He sighed in pleasure, exhaling against Iwaizumi’s clammy skin. “No need to hesitate, Bokuto-san,” he purred, and rolled his hips back.

“Thank god,” Koutarou murmured and pulled his hips back before slamming his cock back deep inside. He established a decent, consistent rhythm and wasted no time trying to angle his hips right at Suga’s prostate. Koutarou happened to be quite good at finding people’s sweet spots, and soon Suga was moaning blissfully and bucking back against him. He couldn’t see his face, but he judging by the angle of his head he was looking at Iwaizumi. 

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Iwaizumi grumbled, gripping Suga’s chin roughly and inspecting his face as if he might find the reason for the joy on it.

“ _Mmm_ … I’m just _so_ glad I got to suck your cock, Iwa-chan— _ahh_. A dream come true, really. _Ooh, Kou-chan_ …” 

Iwaizumi lifted his head slightly, and Koutarou watched them intently, feeling strangely as if he was still a spectator to their intimacy despite being the one currently _inside_ Suga. He found he didn’t really mind. Obviously the two of them had some differences to sort out, and Koutarou was fine with being the mediator that got them both to enjoy the...well, the sex. Maybe things would work out better once everyone had some endorphins, or whatever else those sex hormone things were. 

Iwaizumi dropped Suga’s jaw. “Flip him over,” he said. 

“Roger,” Bokuto replied, raising a hand from Suga’s hip to salute his lover before pulling out and allowing Suga to roll onto his back. He spread his legs instantly, and Koutarou could see that he did indeed look very happy.

Koutarou grinned and knelt over him, lifting his hips so he could press his cock into him again. He didn’t think Suga’s ass was as loose as Iwaizumi said it was. He realized quickly that, more than likely, Iwaizumi didn’t think that either; he was just trying to get under Suga’s skin without success. 

Suga stretched his arms over his head and locked his legs around Koutarou’s back, rocking back on him and smiling up at him. “I _thought_ you would have a nice big dick too,” Suga murmured, eyeing his cock with satisfaction. Koutarou couldn’t stop looking at his lips, remembering that lingering drop of Iwaizumi’s climax that had been there before. 

“Thanks,” he said, out of breath with his thrusts, “I do my best,” he smirked and slammed his hips forward until his cock hit Suga’s prostate again. He cried out in pleasure, high pitched and whining.

Iwaizumi made a noise. When Koutarou looked up, he saw that Iwaizumi lazily pumping his cock back to hardness and watching them with an intense expression. 

“Hajime, you might want to hurry it up if you want in on this,” Koutarou said with a soft groan. Honestly, Suga felt almost unrealistically tight, and his thighs were pleasantly warm around Koutarou’s sides. Every time Suga’s legs shifted to get a better grip, the angle slipped a bit, but Koutarou could thrust deeper. He was already feeling like he might not last another minute, especially not if Iwaizumi’s cock was going to be sharing the same space as his own. Koutarou bit his lip and slowed down his movements.

“Tired?” Suga teased.

“Should’ve had a candy bar or something first,” Koutarou joked back. “Could have used the sugar.”

“If it’s sugar you need, maybe I can help,” Suga cooed and reached up for Koutarou’s neck. He pulled him down for kiss, opening his mouth wide and holding his tongue back for Koutarou to chase in and lick heavily across him. He moaned at the same time as Iwaizumi made another noise.

“That wasn’t even good flirting, it was just cheesy,” Iwaizumi said in his best annoyed tone, though to Koutarou’s practiced ears he sounded amused. 

Koutarou was a little absorbed in both fucking and kissing Suga, and didn’t reply. He was a good kisser, but Koutarou was rather partial to Iwaizumi’s style, which was just as aggressive as his own. But Suga was pliant, waiting for Koutarou to make the moves as he melted beneath him, and Koutarou found that being the sole aggressor had its own merits.

After a few more seconds, Iwaizumi spoke again. “I think I’m ready now.” His voice sounded a little huskier than usual with his renewed arousal.

Koutarou snuck an arm around Suga, and, with a bit of tricky coordination, heaved them both up still joined at the mouth and the hips, although he was a bit too enthusiastic and they nearly fell backwards off the bed. Suga flung his head back in a loud laugh and Iwaizumi’s knelt behind him. He slid his hands up Suga’s back, probably lingering on the pale skin dotted with moles that Koutarou had so recently been looking at. 

Koutarou and Suga slowed their mutual thrusting and readjusted their legs better so that Iwaizumi could prepare Suga. Koutarou could feel when Iwaizumi pressed his finger in alongside his stilled cock, the intrusion tightening Suga further around him. He waited until Iwaizumi pressed another slick finger into Suga before he started moving shallowly again. “Ah, fuck…” he gasped, unable to stay quiet. “Even that much tighter is— _fuck!_ ”

Suga didn’t seem to be losing his composure at all. Koutarou was a bit impressed to think the other spy had even more stamina than him. 

Iwaizumi spread his fingers apart, scissoring them to loosen the ring of muscle. He slipped another third finger in and this time they both groaned. Koutarou could feel Iwaizumi’s fingers pressing in deep and his face rested against the side of Suga’s neck as he concentrated. His eyes flicked up to meet Koutarou’s and he smiled. “Ready?”

“Born ready,” Koutarou replied.

Suga hummed in agreement. 

The stretch was a bit difficult at first, and once Iwaizumi slipped the head in, the pressure was intense. Koutarou moaned and Suga even gave a soft whimper that sounded genuine, but Iwaizumi bit back his moan and kept pushing in. It just got deeper, hotter, even tighter and wetter with all the extra lube Iwaizumi had used. He watched Iwaizumi duck down and clamp his teeth around Suga’s shoulder and hold onto his side with one hand. He reached around to grip Koutarou’s back with the other.

Koutarou hesitated to move, needing to regain a moment’s composure so he wouldn’t come, but Suga was impatient, showing his impossible stamina again. “Any time you’re ready, boys.” 

Iwaizumi, apparently riled by the teasing, pulled back quickly and thrust back in, making Koutarou yelp at the insane friction around his cock. Instinctively, he started moving in time with Iwaizumi, adjusting his pace so they moved just a little off from each other so they could get the best benefit of sliding against both Suga’s walls and each other’s thick, hard cocks. Koutarou knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he couldn’t keep quiet. “Fuck, you guys, it’s so good…” he panted, breathing hot onto Suga’s neck beside Iwaizumi’s face. 

Iwaizumi lifted his head from the now blooming red mark on Suga’s shoulder and pushed his face forward to capture Koutarou’s lips. Ah yes, this was what he was used to. It was familiar and yet it wasn’t old or tired at all. The kiss was fierce and intense, both egging him on to his orgasm and giving him the willpower and focus to draw it out a bit longer. Their tongues twined together and they both moved their bodies against the each other, and Suga between them, rocking the three of them dangerously on the bed as they tried to keep balance between thrusts. 

Iwaizumi kept his parted lips millimeters from Koutarou’s and watched as Koutarou moaned and came. Iwaizumi bumped his lips clumsily against his and murmured encouragingly and he shook through his orgasm, “Come on, Kou. Come on.” Suga gasped and raked his nails along Koutarou’s back as his cum filled Suga, dripping out in the minimal space between the cocks inside him and allowing them to slide against each other even more easily. 

Koutarou pulled out quickly, already beginning to feel a bit tingly, and collapsed back on the sheets, breathing as hard as he did during the most extreme of private sessions with Iwaizumi. It was still amazingly erotic to watch Iwaizumi fucking someone from a third person’s perspective. Both of them were up on their knees now, Iwaizumi fucking into Suga from behind with one hand clamped tightly around his chest and the other fisted in his hair, making his pale throat curve out beautifully. 

Suga was quickly losing his composure. Koutarou watched, awed, he was unable to think of anything to say or any words of encouragement. Suga’s hand wrapped desperately around his cock, now that there was enough space in front of him for him to move it, and he was whimpering and moaning fragments of Iwaizumi’s name and his little nickname for him. 

“I hope your ass is sore for a week,” Iwaizumi growled in his ear, certainly looking like he was doing his best to make it true from the way he was pounding into him. 

Suga breathed out another sound which bubbled up into a breathy laugh. “Don’t give yourself so much credit, Iwa-chan. _Mmnn_ — I recover— _ahh_ —fast.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi purred back. “Because we’re not done after this.” 

Suga groaned and couldn’t quite manage a reply because he came hard just as Iwaizumi finished speaking. Koutarou could relate to the reaction, knowing how weak he was to Iwaizumi’s straightforward dirty talk. He felt his cock twitch, exhausted, but still enticed to a spike of arousal. This picture was truly something to behold, Suga shaking out his orgasm in Iwaizumi’s arms, still being fucked with his head pulled back. Koutarou decided that he would demand Iwaizumi and him record any future encounters with each other, and wondered why he hadn’t gotten the idea sooner.

Iwaizumi fucked Suga even as his body was going limp, biting into his shoulder again and quickening his pace. It wasn’t much longer before he caught up to the two of them with his own orgasm, releasing into Suga’s already loosening hole and leaving the evidence dripping down his thighs.

They all sat in varying states of disarray on the vast bed, panting and eyes glazing over. Suga broke the silence first. “I hope you were serious about not being done, Iwaizumi. I do still have this room until morning." He smiled again.

“Of course I was serious,” Iwaizumi said. “Koutarou, you might want to go down to the vending machine and get your candy now. I’m not sure how many other opportunities we’ll have.”

Koutarou nodded with a wide grin and heaved himself of the bed to look in the closet for a robe. 

__________

Koushi left the hotel just before dawn, early morning chill fogging his breath. He felt clean and refreshed, having showered in the hotel room before packing his things. Bokuto and Iwaizumi were sound asleep when he’d left, Bokuto’s snores resonating through the suite. Koushi had thought it was possible that Iwaizumi was faking it, as he was always more on guard than he pretended to be, but it had been fine. As far as they knew, everyone’s missions had ended before they entered the room. Koushi straightened his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his wrists to protect them from the cold, and crossed the street with a smile on his face. 

He pulled out his phone, which was still warm with body heat from his pocket, and checked the messages. He only had one text, and when he opened it he discovered it was from Hanamaki. It consisted of nothing more than a single winking emoji. He hit the call button as he walked towards the garage where his car was parked. 

“Why the hell are you calling so early, Suga?” Hanamaki’s voice was rough with sleep and annoyance. Koushi’s laughing response was soft by contrast. 

“It’s a mission debriefing, _partner_ , I’m supposed to call after the mission is complete.” 

“The only time I want to hear your voice at this time in the morning is if you’re cooking me breakfast after I get laid. This is uncalled for.” Hanamaki paused. “No pun intended.” 

Koushi laughed, more amused by the fact that Hanamaki had the wherewithal to joke at 4:45 AM than at the joke itself. “Now, now, Makki, you know I’m not romantic enough to cook you breakfast.” Koushi chided. His car was alone on the roof of the parking garage, a black sedan just dirty enough not to stand out, and Koushi pulled the keys from his pocket. He stopped and leaned against the passenger door, watching the horizon lighten to a pink-grey.. 

“You’re right. You’d probably poison me.” 

“I’d never poison _you_ ,” Koushi replied, with the slightest extra stress on the final word.

“Are we debriefing on the phone or do I have to get dressed?” Hanamaki asked, sounding supremely put out by either option. 

“I’ll see you in ten minutes, Makki. Please put on pants.” 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before," he heard Hanamaki reply before he hung up the phone and unlocked the car door. 

The engine purred, loud and strong, betraying the hidden power behind its non-descript design, and Koushi backed out of the parking space. The safehouse where Hanamaki had been running support for him was just over a mile away, close enough to be within radio range, but far enough away to be safe if anything unexpected happened. 

The house was suburban: off-white walls, plain window coverings with little detail. There were some flowering plants near the porch that Koushi guessed did not require much maintenance and a sign on the low front wall that simply said Sato. Whoever the neighbors thought lived here, they must have assumed them pleasant recluses. 

He knocked on the door and Hanamaki answered before he could lower his hand. 

“Good morning.” Koushi said cheerily. 

“Not sure what’s good about it.” Hanamaki replied. “Get in here.” Koushi noticed he had put on pants, though they were wrinkled, but his chest was bare and his eyes still looked tired. He stepped past him into the entryway. 

“So?” Hanamaki said, leading them towards the small sunken living room. It was still mostly dark outside, but a dim glow came through the open blinds and Hanamaki had turned on a lamp in the corner. “Mission complete?” 

“Well you already knew I got the files last night, which means Oikawa didn’t.” Koushi replied, taking a seat on the low couch opposite Hanamaki. He leaned back into the cushions and sighed. He was almost _too_ comfortable, and he could feel his muscles relaxing, lulling him to the sleep he’d denied himself.

“What about Oikawa? He didn’t stop you?” Hanamaki was half-laying on his own couch, as if he was still debating going back to sleep. 

“Do you have any tea?” Koushi asked, ignoring Hanamaki’s question and glancing towards the kitchen. 

“You’re asking like this is my house. I’m not your host, check the kitchen yourself." Hanamaki scratched his chest and rolled onto his side, facing Koushi more directly. 

Koushi laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ah, nevermind.” When Koushi looked back at Hanamaki he had raised his eyebrows, silently repeating his former question. “Oikawa tried to stop me. I think he’s lost his edge. Lost more than that by now, I suspect.” 

“Like his life? So you killed him?” Hanamaki sounded incredulous. As often as he’d heard Koushi’s threats over the last few years he still sounded surprised that his partner would go through with it.

“Probably.” Koushi shrugged with one shoulder. 

“What, you aren’t sure?” Hanamaki leaned forward on the couch, pushing himself up on one elbow, “You didn’t _make sure?_ ”

“Calm down, Makki, killing him wasn’t part of the mission—just a perk," he said. Hanamaki scoffed. “The rest of the mission went without a hitch, too. I don’t think our friends at Dodomeki have the slightest idea what we got away with tonight. My last few hours with two of their agents made sure of that.” 

“Wait, did you kill them too?” he asked. “Suga, what the hell?” 

“I didn’t _kill_ them! What? Do you think I’m some sort of barbarian? It was much more fun than that.” 

It took Hanamaki just a second to realize what Koushi meant. “Two of them? Really? Am I the only one who doesn’t get fucked on the job?” he asked, his voice wistful. 

Koushi shrugged again and smiled. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to do fieldwork.”

“Whatever.” Hanamaki ran a hand through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. “At least it’s done. You can stop obsessing over Oikawa now.” 

Koushi furrowed his eyebrows. “I never obsessed over him.” 

“You _asked_ for this mission, without asking me first, I’d like to remind you, because you knew Oikawa would be here. You brought me to this frozen, foreign wasteland so you could see your old boyfriend and continue to pine for him, just from slightly closer quarters. Except, like, violent pining. Pining with death at the end.” 

“You’re simplifying again,” Koushi sighed, as if he was scolding a child. “I just wanted to talk to him, and if I happened to wonder why he left without saying goodbye then that’s my own business.” 

“Why’d he leave, then?” Hanamaki asked, almost sounding curious.

“I forgot to ask,” Koushi said airily. 

Hanamaki let out a startled laugh. “God, you’re crazy," he said, still laughing. “It’s great.” 

Koushi stood and stretched his arms over his head as well as he could while still in a suit jacket. “I’m going to do a little research and then sleep. Where’s your bed, Makki?” 

“There are two bedrooms.” 

Koushi walked around the couch, stepping up into the dining area where a laptop was open on the table with a few papers scattered beside it. “I didn’t ask how many bedrooms there were," he replied, taking a seat at the table and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“First door on the right.” Hanamaki flopped back, head hitting the couch cushion with a surprisingly loud thud and puff of air. 

“Thank you.” Koushi said. “Now, let’s see how good our friends at Dodomeki _really_ are.” 

__________

Hajime woke up early, especially early considering how tired he was from… He honestly didn’t know how many rounds he had with Suga and Bokuto, but it was a lot more than he’d ever done in his life. He felt as sexually satisfied as he ever had, muscles loose and comfortable, though he wasn’t sure if Bokuto would share that sentiment after a few days. Bokuto was, for the moment, still snoring alone in the vast bed. He wasn’t surprised that Suga was gone, and if he tried, he could almost convince himself Suga hadn’t been there at all, and that the night before was nothing but a fever dream. He let Bokuto rest as he wandered over to check his phone.

He thought it was a bit strange that he hadn’t heard anything from Oikawa or Futakuchi since the end of the mission, but maybe they had been doing some of their own celebrating. 

His phone screen read that he had fourteen missed calls, twenty-two texts, and five messages.

Maybe _not_ celebrating.

Suga had silenced his phone before they started, somehow. His and Bokuto’s both.

Flipping open his phone with a substantial lump of dread in his throat, he checked the texts. None of them said anything about the mission, or what merited so many attempts at contact. It was against security protocol to use insecure channels, like phones, to communicate that information, but the final text was a hospital address and a room number, which didn’t bode well. Most of the other messages boiled down to variations of _‘WHERE ARE YOU?’_. He listened to the voicemails next, all in Futakuchi’s voice, ranging from panicked to slightly calmer to just plain irritated. There were mentions of an injury and Oikawa, the procession of events all eventually leading up to the word ‘surgery.’

Hajime shook Bokuto hard with one hand and dialed Futakuchi with the other. “Get up," he said as the phone rang. “Oikawa got hurt. We have to go.”

__________

Oikawa’s injuries looked as bad as they were—a gunshot to the abdomen and the resulting in a few surgeries—but he was feeling well enough to pout by the time they got there. Bokuto had made them stop to pick up a box of chocolates as a get well gift, though, and Oikawa picked at them with his face turned away and a grumpy expression. Futakuchi was almost as grouchy as Oikawa, and stood in the corner next to the window with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“Oikawa, I am so sorry,” Hajime insisted for about the eightieth time, feeling more tired now that so much stress had sunk into him within the last hour. “But you know how he is.” It was a weak excuse, and Hajime knew it, but if anyone knew how Suga could manipulate people it was Oikawa. 

“I do know how he is, which is why I’m so mad that you fell for it,” he sniffed, plucking a coconut cream from the box and taking a testing bite before dropping it back in. “There was almost a 100% guarantee that he had already tried to kill me, yet you didn’t try to check on anything.”

“We heard you on the com,” Bokuto said sheepishly, leaning against the thin mattress of Oikawa’s hospital bed. “It didn’t make sense that he could have gotten down and out so fast if he’d offed you," he paused. “Well, I didn’t know who he was. I kind of regret how much I enjoyed fucking him considering he tried to kill you. I’d definitely choose you over him, even if he does have a nice butt.” Hajime, Oikawa, and Futakuchi all glared at him. It was hard to say who looked the most irritated. “It’s _perky!_ ” he insisted. “And I said I’d choose you!”

“But you didn’t!” Oikawa said, twisting violently and then wincing as he pulled his stitches. 

“ _I_ did,” Futakuchi said, bristling with almost as much anger as Oikawa himself. 

“Thank you, Futacchi,” Oikawa told him with sincere gratefulness. “Here, have a chocolate," he held out his hand with the coconut cream he’d been nibbling at. 

“Give me one you didn’t bite,” Futakuchi demanded, pushing away Oikawa’s hand and rejecting the half-eaten chocolate. 

Oikawa hesitated for just a moment, peering over the box, before giving him a dark salted caramel. 

Hajime was still racking his brain for a way he could make it up to his best friend for almost letting him die (and subsequently fucking his would-be murderer for seven hours or so) when the nurse came in. She was carrying a vase of flowers large enough to obscure her face. “These came for you, dear,” she said, setting them on the window sill. She dropped the card into Oikawa’s hand before bustling out again.

Oikawa looked a bit pleased for a moment, probably impressed by the size of the gift, and tugged the card out of the envelope. As soon as he opened it, he scowled and threw it violently across the bed, wincing again from the activity. 

Hajime picked up the discarded note and opened it. The words inside, in slightly sloping characters read ‘ _Nice save, Tooru-chan. Rematch? XOXO_ ’. 

He felt Futakuchi lean over his shoulder to read the note too. He clapped Hajime on the back. “So that’s the guy you fucked, right? What a winner. Nice taste, Iwaizumi," he said sarcastically, and even Oikawa couldn’t hold back his smirk at Hajime’s frustrated groan as he dropped the offending piece of paper. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?” Hajime looked up as Oikawa spoke. “Give me your lighter.”


End file.
